


If We Could

by MedicateMe



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Amnesia (little bit), Angst, Coma, Deep down she does, Eventual fluff/comfort, Family albums, Klaus is a good brother, Rest of family joins eventually, They Time Travel a week before the apocalypse, Vanya tries to act like she doesn’t care, dave is mentioned, vanya centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedicateMe/pseuds/MedicateMe
Summary: Vanya awakens after almost ending the world. The first thing she does is cry into her mother’s arms, the second thing she does is build up a wall around her heart, keeping her cold like she’s always known the extraordinary people in her life to be.After all that’s what she is now right? Extraordinary.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	If We Could

Her body is heavy, cold, stiff. No matter how much she tries to fight the darkness surrounding herself she can't. It's big and vast...so vast she can't even grasp if it has an end or if it even begins. She's just there and that's where she'll stay.

Is she dead? Possibly? Does she feel worried? Anxious? No. She doesn't feel much of anything at the moment but the basic things.

She hears mumbles parts of speech, bitten off sentences, and the slow sobbing of a female. All these things don't connect nor does she think about them after they occur. They are just another stepping stone on her way to peace.

She doesn't remember much of anything, no memory of how she got here, no memory of where she came, all she has is fading feelings of greatness and that's all she's ever needed. The bad things she's done, she can feel them in her heart, but the very thought of what occurred brings little imagery to her.

She is blank. Just a white sheet of paper, burned on one edge and wrinkled on the other. None of that changes her unfeeling nature.

___________________________

Her eyes twitch, rays of light flutter through her closed eyelids and when she opens them she's faced with blinding white. A white wall, a white floor, a white bed, a white light. She tries to focus on her surroundings, she tries to grasp where she is, but everything is a blur and her ears ring.

She's alive.

It's something of a wonder she thinks. Just realizing she's living, she's breathing, she's here in this place. She doesn't feel relieved...somehow she had felt it more appropriate to die, to reach her death after all the things she's done.

The deaths she caused and the selfishness she allowed herself to grasp. Why should she be allowed to live? Why didn't they just kill her? Why didn't they? What did they think they could accomplish by letting her live?

The questions wrack her mind and she finds no answers. She doesn't know if she truly cares about it. She doesn't know where these thoughts come from...but she thinks they are old Vanya thoughts. Old thoughts from an ordinary woman who let herself believe she was worthless.

Now she's extraordinary. Now she's special, important, and powerful. She doesn't need to bow her thoughts to care for others now. There's no walking on eggshells, there's no more apologizing for things she can't help, there's no more damsel in distress.

She is not going to be ordinary again.

"Sweetheart?" It's a familiar voice that calls out to her from beyond the bright light. It's so familiar that despite all her self centered thoughts...her heart skips a beat. A clicking occurs, again and again, getting closer, heels on the floor.

Grace looks down at her, her eyes accepting, her lips pinned up in a sweet smile, and her hand reaching out to gently pat her head. Her face starts leaking, the liquid pours out of her eyes and before she knows it she's crying.

Downright sobbing.

Grace, her dearest mother, leans down and embraces her body, filling her with warmth.

"I'm so sorry," she sobs against her mother, all of her resolve shattering. "I didn't...I just- I," Grace shushes her and simply holds her tighter.

"I know," her mother says to, so sweetly and kindly that it breaks her heart.

The thoughts flood to her harsh and she sobs even louder. Why is she doing this? Why is she letting herself be consumed with this feeling? She isn't ordinary anymore. The extraordinary her had completely consumed her ordinary part hadn't it?

Her mother hums against her cheek.

"I forgive you."

She goes slack in her mother's arm. 

___________________________

The coldness settled back in her bones as her mother sits a tray of food on her lap. Sitting up hurts but she says nothing. Extraordinary people don't fret such small things.

The room, the infirmary, is always so uncomfortable. She isn't sure where the feeling stems from but she bets it has something to do with the silence, the perfect white of everything, and the draft that the room sometimes had.

She eats what's on her plate, finding herself hungry although she hadn't known she was mere moments ago. The ham sandwich is gone in a few bites and she gulps down her water.

"You've been sleeping for almost a week," Grace sits down beside her, in her lap a small book. She flips through it with satisfaction painting her lips.

"What-" her voice, she just now is hearing it, really hearing it, and it is hoarse and dry sounding. It sounds awful.

"It's a photo album," Grace says fondly, letting her eyes scan each photo inside. "I found it while cleaning up the attic. Can you imagine that? All of you were so small when these where taken," Grace holds the album up an shows her a few pictures.

One of Luther crying while holding his favorite stuffed animal, the only one he ever had, ripped up by Two. She can only imagine.

Another picture is her, small, but a genuine smile on her lips while she helped Ben find a book to read. Ben looked disinterested, nothing on his face, nothing in his posture, nothing at all. He was never emotional.

The last picture is Klaus, half-naked, sleeping underneath the kitchen table for reasons unknown. Grace seems to look at this picture longer as if trying to figure out why he would do such a thing. It's a question that will remain unanswered because these pictures were taken long before Grace ever came about.

These pictures are from back when they had nannies.

___________________________

The first face she sees, the first sibling that comes to visit her after her coma-like state is Klaus. Klaus who almost trips as he enters the room, his eyes squinting against the bright lights, and he looks like a mess. Bags underneath his eyes, a simple t-shirt on his top but a blue skirt around his legs, just barely reaching his knees. He smiles at her as he takes a seat, he leans back, relaxes, and acts like everything is normal.

Nothing is normal.

"I never took you for one who values their beauty sleep. Did you have sweet dreams? I bet you did didn't you, buttercup?” 

She opens her mouth, she has so many things to say, to ask, to express but everything she wants to do is shot down when he continues speaking. He's always been the talk a lot...and even through something like this... some things don't change.

"I know I've been enjoying my beauty sleep. You know now since I'm sober or whatever-no I guess you wouldn't know would you?" He leans his back and gives a little chuckle, making the atmosphere less tense. "The why's aren't really important. I wouldn't want to bore you with my silly old problems but let me tell you living is a chore. If only I could sleep more and escape the daily grind."

Klaus presses a hand against his lips, his fingernails already at his teeth, being gnawed at until they turn red and bleed. He doesn't seem to mind nor care, not that he ever did, and although she looks she makes no move to stop him.

He isn't her concern anymore. How many years had she been thrown aside for them? How many years have they looked at her like she was a failure? No longer is she that stupid little child who apologized for everything and spoke from her heart.

She is cold now.

"I can't tell you how much I missed skirts," His eyes close slightly, his breath hitches and his fingers twitch. "They are just so breathy on the bits...I wish I could have shown him how good I look in them. I can really rock them...right?"

Him who? She isn't sure she cares.

When she says nothing he continues on talking, drawling at the conversation further until all she can hear is a faint chattering. She sighs as she leans back against the bed, holding herself together as best as she can.

She is extraordinary. She is strong and brave and just as cold as her siblings had always been. She is just like them now.

"I don't blame you for what happened, " Klaus says as he stands, dusting off imaginary dirt from his skirt. "That doesn't mean the rest of them don't. But know I'm on your side Vanya...even if you never learn to forgive yourself I'll be here for you."

Vanya says nothing. What is there to blame herself for? Killing Pogo? Leaving Mother to die? Almost getting everyone killed? Almost ending the world? For once in her life, she let her emotions fuel her and...it was relieving in a way.

She just...she just felt so angry. So used and cold at that moment. Like nothing in the entire world mattered. 

Klaus starts to walk out, a little skip in his step but it's more for show than anything. "You'll probably get some other visitors eventually...but it's hard for them too. Don't hold it against them if it takes a little while? Please?" He gives her a puppy-eyed look and all she gives is a lame nod.

He smiles back at her.


End file.
